


Highlights

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Established Relationship, Hair Kink, M/M, Meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14875049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: Shortly after "A Life in the Day", Margo decides she wants to try highlights.  On Quentin.  She might also be meddling in our boys' lives.  Just a bit.





	Highlights

“Did they finally get the recipe for wine right in Fillory?” Quentin squinted down at his second, no third, glass of wine. “It’s better than the last time I was here.”

“No, Fillorian wine still sucks,” Eliot said.

“I brought this back from the last time we were at Brakebills,” Margo replied. “A dozen bottles or so.”

“And we’ve gone through two so far,” Eliot said, waving an empty bottle at Quentin. A facade had been put in place when he’d been around Q the past couple of days; ever since the quest that had never been yet had been, Eliot had been trying to come to terms with all the memories that had assaulted him. Peaches and plums. Rupert. A life filled with love.

“Shouldn’t waste it all tonight.” Quentin took a long drink of wine and glanced over at Eliot and Margo.

“It’s not going to waste,” Margo said, pouring Quentin some more wine. “It’s being put to proper use.”

“What, getting me drunk?” Q asked.

“Getting us all drunk,” Eliot said.

“I am not drunk,” Margo said.

“Well I am,” Quentin said, downing the rest of his wine and letting his head fall back, his hair falling over the back of the chair.

Margo sipped her wine and watched, smiling into her glass as she watched Eliot reach over and run a hand through Quentin’s hair, watched Quentin lean into Eliot’s touch; gestures that appeared so familiar to the both of them that Margo couldn’t help but smile.

“Good, you need to lighten up a bit,” Margo said.

“You didn’t bring anything herbal back with you, did you Bambi?” Eliot asked.

“No, nothing herbal,”Margo replied. 

“Bummer,” Eliot said, taking a drink of wine.

Margo let them all sit in silence for a few minutes, sipping wine, before … 

“Q, I never noticed before but your hair is almost the same color as mine,” Margo said conversationally.

“Is it?” Quentin turned his head and blinked blearily at Margo. “Huh, guess it is pretty close.

“I’ve always wanted to try something,” Margo said. “But I didn’t know how it would look. But maybe …”

“Margo,” Eliot said slowly.

“What?” Quentin asked. “What did you want to try?”

“Highlights,” Margo said.

“Highlights,” Quentin repeated. “Okay.”

“But your hair is almost the same color as mine,” Margo said. “And if I could try it out on you first …”

“What, gonna strongarm me to go to the local Fillorian salon?” Quentin said. 

“No, we could do them right here,” Margo said. “Or rather, in Eliot’s bathroom.”

“Why are we bringing me into this?” Eliot said as he finished his wine.

“Because your bathroom is bigger than mine,” Margo said. “And for reasons I can’t understand, has a wash sink.”

“It was there when I got there,” Eliot said.

“Okay, say I agree to this,” Quentin said, “not that I’m agreeing. How do you intend to accomplish this?”

“Oh, I brought a home highlighting kit back with me,” Margo said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“You brought a - of course you did,” Quentin said.

“Please Q?” Margo asked. “I’d be ever so grateful. You wouldn’t want the High Queen to have horrible highlights, would you?”

“You could just not do them,” Quentin said.

“El, help a girl out?” Margo said.

“Nope, leave me out of it,” Eliot said, reaching over and running a hand through Quentin’s hair.

“Please Q?” Margo said, turning sad eyes brimming with tears to Quentin. “Please let me try? Please?”

Quentin sighed and slumped in his chair, admitting defeat.

Margo’s face changed, the tears disappeared and she gave Quentin a bright smile. 

“Come on, let’s go! I have everything in Eliot’s bathroom,” Margo said, standing and making her way through the castle. “Come on!”

Quentin sighed and stood, only swaying a bit as he gained his equilibrium.

“Not going to leave me alone with her, are you?” Quentin said, turning to look at Margo.

“Nah,” Eliot said. “I won’t leave you alone.” Not again. Eliot would make sure he was always by Quentin’s side, would never again leave him alone like he did at the mosaic. He wrapped an arm around Quentin’s shoulders and helped him walk through the castle to the bathroom.

“Thanks, cuz Margo can be pretty scary,” Quentin whispered.

“That’s why we love her,” Eliot said.

“Yeah, true,” Quentin replied.

They reached the bathroom and found Margo setting everything out.

“What, take a detour?” Margo asked.

“Trying to keep Q here upright,” Eliot said. “He’s definitely drunk.”

“‘m not drunk,” Quentin protested. “Tipsy, maybe.”

“Okay, tipsy,” Eliot said. “Sit before you fall over.”

“Take your shirt off and come sit over here,” Mary said, patting the chair by the wash sink.

Quentin fought against the rising blush as he tugged his shirt off and crossed the room. He kept the shirt clutched to his chest as he sat down, looking down at his lap and avoiding the looks from Eliot and Margo.

“Now, now,” Eliot said, snatching Quentin’s shirt and tossing it aside. “We’ve seen it.”

“I know,” Quentin muttered.

“Nothing to be shy about, Q,” Margo said as she finished getting everything set up. “Now, you can back out now, but once I start, you’re stuck.”

“Pretty sure I couldn’t back out even if I wanted to,” Quentin said. “You’d turn on the puppy dog eyes and I wouldn’t be able to say no. Again.”

“Wonderful!” Margo tossed a cape around Quentin’s shoulders and snapped it tight.

Quentin reached up and ran a finger under the collar of the cape. “It’s tight,” he said.

“But oh so flattering, Q,” Eliot said.

“I don’t want to get bleach on your skin,” Margo said. 

“Yeah because that would suck,” Quentin muttered.

“It’ll be fine,” Eliot said as he sat down across from Quentin, watching the whole thing. “She’ll test a strand of hair to make sure you’re not allergic, she’ll do a bit of Bob Ross on your locks and thirty minutes or so later you’ll have highlights.”

“Know a lot about this,” Quentin said, watching Eliot curiously.

“There was a horrible time in my youth,” Eliot started.

“There are pictures somewhere,” Margo said helpfully.

“Margo,” Eliot said.

“If I come out of this unscathed, I get to see those pictures,” Quentin said.

“Deal,” Margo said. “Now hold still so I can do the test.”

Quentin sighed and let Margo play beautician. He tried to keep from blushing as he found Eliot’s full attention on him. It had been strange since the quest that was and wasn’t. He’d been trying to come to grips with all the memories that ran in an almost constant loop in his brain. He found himself missing the little touches he’d shared with Eliot, the inside jokes … everything.

“I really wish I had my phone.”

Quentin glanced over to where Margo was removing her gloves, then realized his head felt heavier. Out of the corner of his eye he could see foil covering the bottom two-thirds of his hair.

“Be happy I didn’t use the cap, that thing hurts,” Margo said. “One side will be done in about ten minutes, the other in fifteen.”

“So what, I just sit?” Quentin said.

“Or, we could talk about your ragged nail situation going on,” Margo said, motioning to Quentin’s hands.

“What? I bite my nails,” Quentin said.

“Nasty habit,” Eliot replied. “Nervous habit? I could help you find something else to bite.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you what you can bite,” Quentin said.

“Yeah? Come at me Coldwater,” Eliot said.

It was said so offhand, but the memory almost knocked him backwards. Quentin remembered the mosaic, being both frustrated and yet happy at the same time. The memories of what had been between him and Eliot had been ripped away and then returned with a vengeance. The first night after they had returned, Quentin had spent most of the night just trying to get a handle on everything.

Sometimes he caught Eliot looking at him and Quentin was suddenly back at the mosaic.

“A manicure will do wonders,” Margo said. 

“In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess,” Quentin said with a shrug.

“Awesome,” Margo replied. 

“Let me,” Eliot said, scooting forward and taking one of Quentin’s hands in his. “You’ll want to paint his nails and that will take too long. He just needs a quick file and buff.”

Quentin glanced down as his hand in Eliot’s. Sometimes he remembered how Eliot’s hands had become rough and calloused, remembered how in their later years those calloused hands had ran all over his skin. Eliot’s calloused hands had known just the right places to touch … Quentin shivered a bit as he remembered.

“Cold?” Margo asked.

Quentin blushed and shook his head. “N-no,” he said.

“Tell me if you get cold,” Eliot said. “We can get a blanket.”

“I’m fine,” Quentin said softly. 

“Okay,” Eliot said, taking a file and working on Quentin’s nails.

Quentin watched Eliot’s hands for a while.

“I miss your calluses,” Quentin whispered.

Eliot faltered as he worked on Quentin’s hands. He remembered how Quentin’s hands had gotten rough with work, his fingers and palms worn and calloused. He remembered how those hands and fingers had felt on his temples when Quentin massaged away a stress headache. How those rough fingers had felt on his nipples, on his hips, on his … Eliot gave himself a mental shake and went back to the task of fixing Quentin’s nails.

“I miss yours too,” Eliot whispered back, staring down at Quentin’s hands as he worked. He filed all Quentin’s nails and massaged some lotion into each hand, taking his time. Quentin, after everything they’d been through, deserved to be pampered a little.

“One side’s done!” Margo called just as Eliot finished with Quentin’s hands. “We’ll rinse this side and then in five minutes the other side will be done.”

“Lean back, Q,” Eliot said, standing and helping Quentin lean back so his head was over the wash sink.

“Feels weird,” Quentin said.

“What, never been to a salon before?” Margo asked as she started to remove the foils from Quentin’s hair.

“N-no,” Quentin said.

“You’re missing out,” Margo said.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Quentin said softly.

“It actually is quite a lovely experience,” Eliot said, standing near the wash sink and watching Margo work. “And thankfully the hot water spring under the castle was not a magical one.”

“What?” Quentin asked. “What does that mean?”

“Means you won’t freeze when I do this,” Margo said, pouring hot water over Quentin’s hair.

Quentin squeaked in surprise and Eliot laughed. 

“Oh it’s fine,” Margo said. “Eliot, take the foils off the other side, would you?”

Quentin suddenly found himself with Margo on one side and Eliot on the other, the focus of their attention. He glanced over at Margo, then glanced over at Eliot and found Eliot staring down at him as he removed the foils from Quentin’s hair.

“Doing okay, Q?” Eliot asked softly.

“Think so,” Quentin said. “Are we almost done?”

“With Margo it’s hard to tell,” Eliot admitted.

“Phase One is almost done,” Margo interrupted as she poured water over the other side of Quentin’s hair to rinse out the dye.

“Phase One?” Quentin said. “Wait, what exactly did I agree to?”

“Some pampering,” Margo said. “Suck it up.”

Quentin bit his lip and glanced over at Eliot as his mind was suddenly filled with images of his lips wrapped around Eliot’s cock (and vice versa). Back at the mosaic, he and Eliot had spent an entire lifetime together, learning about each other, learning each other’s bodies. Quentin could remember just the right spot where Eliot was ticklish, the way Eliot would massage his wrists after a hard day working on the mosaic. Quentin had so many memories of nights spent together in bed, some nights making love, and other nights just spent in the comfort of each other’s arms.

“Okay, we’ve rinsed, now what?” Quentin asked.

“Purple shampoo,” Margo said. “To tone the highlights.”

“And you happen to have purple shampoo,” Quentin said.

“Of course,” Margo said, reaching down and grabbing a plain black bottle. “I come prepared.”

“Allow me,” Eliot said, taking the bottle from Margo. “You don’t mind, do you, Q?”

Quentin glanced up at Eliot and gave him a small smile. “I don’t mind,” he murmured.

Eliot took a moment to slip out of the heavy embroidered coat he’d been wearing, leaving him in just a sleeveless, white sheer v-neck top. He squeezed some shampoo into his hands and began to work it through Quentin’s hair. He watched Quentin’s face as he massaged, fingers working to relieve Q of all the tension he’d been carrying with him. Things had been strained between the two of them ever since … trying to reconcile what had happened at the mosaic with real life, and all Eliot wanted to do was pull Q in for a kiss. All the time. He missed the closeness.

Something had to change.

“All right, stop turning Q into a pile of goo,” Margo said. “Let that shampoo sit for five minutes and do its job. Then we rinse, condition and style.”

“Style,” Quentin mumbled. “Can’t we just brush it and be done?”

“Nope,” Margo said.

Quentin sighed and closed his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“That’s my Q,” Margo said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Quentin’s forehead. “You’ll be shocked at how pretty you’ll be when I’m done.”

“Men aren’t supposed to be pretty,” Quentin said softly.

“Oh men can definitely be pretty,” Margo said. “Look at Eliot - he’s pretty.”

“Aww Bambi, the things you say,” Eliot said as he sat down next to where Quentin was reclining.

“And Q, you are almost pretty,” Margo said. “You’re so close I can taste it!”

“Um … thanks.” Quentin said.

They all sat in silence for the rest of the five minutes until Margo deemed Quentin ready to be rinsed again.

“Feeling a little awkward?” Eliot asked as he rinsed the shampoo from Quentin’s hair.

“A little,” Quentin admitted. “Being the center of attention was never my thing.”

“You’re the center of mine, Q,” Eliot whispered, carding a hand through Quentin’s hair. “For the last fifty years or so.”

Quentin swallowed and looked up into Eliot’s eyes. “You’re the center of mine too, El,” he whispered.

“We need to talk,” Eliot said as he finished rinsing Quentin’s hair and taking the bottle of conditioner from Margo.

“More than that,” Quentin whispered. “We need to touch. I missed it so much, El.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Eliot replied. He took a deep breath, put some conditioner in his hands and then buried his hands once again in Quentin’s hair. “I missed this.”

“Arielle would -” Quentin cut himself off and closed his eyes at the onslaught of memories.

“I remember watching her braid your hair,” Eliot whispered, massaging Quentin’s scalp a bit.

Quentin hummed and nodded, leaning into Eliot’s touch.

“Having fun over there?” Margo asked. 

Eliot just barely managed not to jump - he’d been so engrossed in Quentin he’d forgotten Margo was there.

“Shit,” Quentin whispered. “Yeah, Margo, having a blast.”

“Good, rinse off and sit up so we can move on to the next phase,” Margo said, tossing Eliot a towel.

Eliot tossed the towel over his shoulder before rinsing the conditioner from Quentin’s hair. “I think highlights suite you, Q,” he murmured as he squeezed the excess water from Quentin’s hair before wrapping it in the towel.

“Thanks, I’ll take your word for it,” Quentin mumbled.

“I’ll let you see what your hair looks like mostly dry before I style,” Margo said, laying out a comb, scissors, another couple of towels, and a brush.

“Wait, wait, I see scissors,” Quentin said. 

“A trim, Q,” Margo said. “To get rid of the split ends.”

“I promise not to let her cut all your hair off,” Eliot said, squeezing Quentin’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t,” Margo said, mock affronted. “Then I wouldn’t be able to do the style I want.”

“I really regret saying yes to all this,” Quentin muttered.

“Don’t be a baby,” Margo said. “Go sit over there.”

Quentin resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Margo as he got up and moved over to the other chair in the bathroom. He sat down and found himself in front of the mirror that he hadn’t noticed before. He watched in the mirror as Eliot sat down next to him and rested his hand on Quentin’s knee.

Margo stood behind Quentin and removed the towel, rubbing his hair briskly for a few minutes before tossing the towel aside and and picking up the comb.

“These highlights look fantastic,” Margo said as she gently combed through Quentin’s hair.

Quentin shrugged. “Guess,” he said, watching Margo carefully, especially when she picked up the scissors.

“You’ll see the difference when I’m done,” Margo said.

“If you say so,” Quentin said with a shrug.

“I do,” Margo said as she began to comb and snip, comb and snip, sending half inch bits of hair floating to the ground.

“I can see a difference,” Eliot murmured. “Reminds of when you’d spend all that time out in the sun, sitting in the meadow and planning out patterns. Sun-kissed.”

“I remember that,” Quentin whispered, locking eyes with Eliot in the mirror. “Some of my favorite memories, among others.”

“Okay, you can breathe again, I’m putting the scissors down,” Margo said, doing just that before dusting bits of hair off Quentin’s shoulders and removing the cape.

Quentin reached up and rubbed his neck a bit, glad to be rid of the cape. 

“And now the tangles are out,” Margo said, reaching for the brush.

Eliot stood and grabbed the brush before Margo could grab it. “I’ve got it,” he said.

“Rude,” Margo said, but pressed a kiss to Eliot’s cheek and took his vacated spot next to Quentin. “So, can we talk about wardrobe now?”

“Really?” Quentin said as he watched Eliot in the mirror.

“So much black, and nothing that shows off that lovely frame,” Margo said. “And really, we have a very talented tailor here that could make you some stylish things.”

“Maybe,” Quentin said, humming a bit as he felt Eliot start to brush his hair. Back at the mosaic, as they’d gotten older, and Quentin’s hair got longer and longer, he remembered sitting on the big daybed outside their house, Eliot behind him carefully brushing his hair.

“I might have already had a few things commissioned for you,” Margo said.

“Why am I not surprised,” Quentin said.

“You’ll love it, trust me,” Margo said, patting Quentin’s knee before standing. “Pass me the brush, El. His hair’s dry enough, time to style.”

Eliot passed the brush over and sat back down next to Quentin. “Let him see it before you do whatever you’re going to do,” he said. 

“Fine,” Margo said with a sigh, fluffing Quentin’s hair a bit so he could see what Margo had done. “Very subtle, but makes a difference.”

Quentin sat forward a bit and took a moment to look at what Margo had done.

“See?” Eliot said, carding a hand through Eliot’s hair. “Sun-kissed.”

“It’s not bad at all,” Quentin said. “You almost wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“That is exactly the point,” Margo said, reaching over and opening a box of bobby pins. “Now sit back so I can try this style out. I think you’ll great in it.”

“I think I’m worried,” Quentin said, glancing over at the box of bobby pins before sighing and sitting back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you take it out,” Eliot said.

“Thanks,” Quentin said, turning his attention to the mirror to watch Margo work. It was actually kind of fascinating, if Quentin could pretend it wasn’t his hair Margo was styling. She’d made some sort of pouf at the front and from there was doing some sort of French braid, knot thing. Quentin could feel all the bobby pins in his hair, poking his scalp a bit, and it felt strange.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Eliot said as Margo got close to finishing up.

“Feels weird,” Quentin said. “What is this anyway?”

“It’s called a knot hawk,” Margo said, wrapping a hair tie around the end of Quentin’s hair. “Damn, I wish I had my phone with me so I could snap this. This is a good look, Q.”

Quentin turned his head from side to side, looking at it in the mirror. It was definitely feminine, but … it didn’t look horrible.

“We could always get the royal portrait painter in here to paint you,” Eliot said.

“No thank you,” Quentin said, reaching up and patting his hair experimentally.

“Well, now I know I could do the highlights,” Margo said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Quentin’s cheek. “Thanks for being my guinea pig.”

“Yeah yeah,” Quentin said.

“I’m going to head back to my rooms,” Margo said. “I managed to sneak back a little battery operated toy and mama wants some alone time.”

“Have at it,” Eliot said.

“I plan to!” Margo called, waving over her shoulder as she left, leaving Quentin and Eliot alone.

“So, can you help me take this out?” Quentin asked.

“Actually,” Eliot said slowly, “I like the look of it. Could you … could you keep it a bit?”

Quentin glanced over at Eliot, at the unsure look on his face, and smiled softly. “For a little bit,” he said. “Until my scalp starts hurting.” 

Eliot stood and offered a hand to Quentin. “My bedroom is probably a more comfortable place to talk,” he said.

Quentin nodded and slipped his hand into Eliot’s, squeezing it gently. “Yeah, probably,” he said.

They made their way into Eliot’s bedroom, towards the large bed that dominated the space. They sat at the foot of the bed, still holding hands.

“I miss touching you,” Quentin whispered. “The casual touches, the sweet kisses whenever we felt like it, your arms wrapped around me at night. I miss Rupert … I miss Arielle.”

Eliot released their hands and wrapped his arms around Quentin, pulling him close. “I miss them too,” he said, kissing Quentin’s hair. “So much, Q. I feel like I’ve been mourning the loss all over again.”

“I feel the same.” Quentin said. “It’s felt like I’ve been reliving everything.” He blushed and ducked his head, wishing his hair wasn’t up so he could hide behind it.

“I miss our bed,” Eliot said. “I miss waking up to find you and Arielle making breakfast in the kitchen. I miss the way we would all share the bed … I miss when Rupert was little and would climb into the bed after a nightmare. I miss our life there, but most of all I miss us. I miss the way we were there.”

Quentin shifted climbed onto Eliot’s lap, looking him in the eye. “We can get it back,” he said. “I know we can.”

Eliot ran his hands up and down Quentin’s back. “Think so, Q?” he asked.

“Know so,” Quentin said, pressing a kiss to Eliot’s chin. “We just have to remember, trust, and let go.”

“Is that all, huh?” Eliot asked, one hand tugging playfully at the end of Quentin’s braid. “So much optimism.”

“It’s you and me,” Quentin said. “It worked then, it can work now.”

Eliot smiled. “You know, I really do like this style on you,” he said. “It has a warrior vibe to it, yet it’s so beautiful.”

“Beautiful,” Quentin said.

“I didn’t stutter, Coldwater,” Eliot said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Quentin’s forehead. “Beautiful.”

“I want us to work here,” Quentin said. “I know we’re going to fight, and it might be rehashes of fights we had there, but I want us to work.”

“I want us to work, too,” Eliot whispered. “This is going to sound super romantic and not at all like me, but I feel more complete with you.”

“Awww El, you are a romantic,” Quentin said. 

“But you knew that,” Eliot replied, scratching a bit at Quentin’s back.

“I do know that,” Quentin said, arching into Eliot’s touch. “You really like the hair?”

“Mmmhmm,” Eliot hummed. “I really do.”

Quentin sighed softly and rested his head on Eliot’s shoulder, revelling in the feel of being in Eliot’s arms again. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until that moment. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, head against Eliot’s chest, but after a while … 

“The bobby pins are starting to itch,” Quentin said, wiggling a bit in Eliot’s lap. “Don’t think I was made for bobby pins.”

“And I promised I’d help you take them out,” Eliot said. “Come on, let’s go up on the bed and I’ll help take your hair down.”

Quentin pressed a kiss to Eliot’s nose, slid off Eliot’s lap and climbed up onto the bed.

“Budge forward,” Eliot said as he climbed onto the bed. “Need to sit behind you.”

Quentin smiled and scooted forward a bit, humming softly when Eliot climbed behind him. He giggled a little when he felt the sheer fabric of Eliot’s shirt against his back.

“Tickles,” Quentin said.

“Well,” Eliot said, taking a moment to remove his shirt, “best fix that.”

Quentin sighed softly at the warmth of Eliot’s skin against his back. 

“Better,” Quentin whispered.

“I think so too,” Eliot said as he began the careful task of undoing the deceptively simple style Margo had coerced Quentin’s hair into. He removed the hair tie first and set it on the end table, fingers deftly undoing the braid before moving up and removing the first set of bobby pins and undoing the first ‘knot’.

“Feels better already,” Quentin murmured.

“And I’m just getting started,” Eliot replied. He took his time - remove the bobby pins, undo the knot, remove the bobby pins, undo the knot. Bit by bit he released Quentin’s hair from it’s confinement and smiled softly. Q’s hair had still been a bit damp when Margo put it up and so, even after the short time it had been up, Q’s hair had dried and fell in messy waves as it was released from its confines.

“Feels better,” Quentin said.

“Last one,” Eliot said, taking out the bobby pins from the last knot and releasing the front pouf. He took a few moments and ran his fingers through Quentin’s hair, smiling at the soft sun-kissed waves. “Looks beautiful.”

“Hmm?” Quentin asked, tipping his head back to allow Eliot more access to his hair.

“You need to see this,” Eliot said. “Come on, come back to the bathroom with me.”

“I’m comfortable here,” Quentin said with a soft whine.

“It’ll be worth it, I swear,” Eliot said as he rolled off the bed and tugged Quentin with him.

“Fine, fine,” Quentin said, allowing Eliot to pull him out of bed and drag him back to the bathroom.

Eliot moved Quentin until he was right in front of the mirror, standing behind him so he could see Quentin’s face.

“Beautiful, Q,” Eliot said, pushing his hands through Quentin’s sun-kissed waves, fanning them out in front of Quentin’s shoulders. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

Quentin caught sight of himself in the mirror and gasped softly. “That’s me?” he whispered.

“That’s you,” Eliot whispered. He wrapped an arm around Quentin and allowed his hand to trail across Quentin’s stomach, smiling as he felt Quentin’s stomach muscles clench under his hand.

“Okay,” Quentin breathed. “Maybe Margo knew what she was doing.”

“Love these waves, Q,” Eliot murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Quentin’s head.

Quentin hummed and dropped his head back against Eliot’s chest. “I don’t mind them,” he replied.

Eliot smiled and allowed his hand to drift higher, up to Quentin’s chest. His fingers found one of Quentin’s nipples and gave it a playful tweak, chuckling when Quentin squeaked.

“Okay, if we’re doing that we have to go back to bed,” Quentin said. “Because if you do that one thing, my knees are going to give out and I want to be on the bed for that.”

“You like when I do that thing,” Eliot murmured.

“I know, that’s why we need to be in bed,” Quentin said. “Because I really like that thing and I’ll be pissed if my knees give out in your bathroom.”

“Back to bed it is, then,” Eliot said. “But really, you look absolutely beautiful like this.”

“You’re not talking Margo into giving me a perm,” Quentin muttered as he tugged Eliot back to the bedroom, grinning when Eliot burst out laughing.

“Maybe pin curls instead,” Eliot said. “You’d look cute sleeping in them.”

“Funny,” Quentin said as he tugged his pants off, tossed them in the corner and climbed back onto the bed.

“I’m serious,” Eliot said, tugging his own pants off and tossing them in the same pile as Quentin’s. “We have the bobby pins. You’d look adorable and come out with these gorgeous waves.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Quentin said as he laid down in Eliot’s bed, allowing his hair to fan out on the pillow.

“Fuck,” Eliot whispered as he climbed onto the bed, straddled Quentin’s thighs and stared down at him. “I’ll never get over how beautiful you are.”

“Talk about beauty,” Quentin said, reaching up to pull Eliot down against him. “You, El, are stunning.”

Eliot hummed and pressed kisses to Quentin’s neck and collarbone. “Now that we know we’re both pretty,” Eliot murmured, nipping Quentin’s collarbone playfully.

Quentin gasped softly. “Do the thing,” he whispered. “Please? You know how much I like when you do the thing.”

Eliot chuckled and leaned up a bit, one hand carding through Quentin’s hair as the other located one of Quentin’s nipples. As he gave Quentin’s hair a tug, he dug his fingernails into Quentin’s nipple a bit, watching Quentin’s face, smiling as Quentin moaned softly.

“That thing?” Eliot whispered.

“Yes,” Quentin whimpered. “That thing. Again? Please?”

Eliot smiled and did it again. “Want more?”

“Want you,” Quentin breathed, hands gripping at Eliot’s hips. “Want you, El.”

“You have me, Q,” Eliot murmured. “You have me.” 

Quentin tightened his grip. “Missed the feel of you,” he said. 

“Same, Q, same,” Eliot said. The hand that had been on Quentin’s chest trailed down, scratching a bit at Quentin’s stomach before ending between Quentin’s legs, cradling Quentin’s balls in his hand.

“Yes,” Quentin said softly, whimpering and biting his lip when he felt Eliot give his balls a squeeze.

“That what you want?” Eliot asked.

“More,” Quentin said. 

“Pass me the -” Eliot didn’t even have to finish before he felt Quentin thrust a bottle of lube into his hand from the bag that hung from the headboard. “Needy.”

“Been so long, El,” Quentin said. 

“Feels like forever,” Eliot whispered.

“It’s been a - a while,” Quentin said, gasping softly when he felt two of Eliot’s fingers inside him. He reached down and wrapped a hand around Eliot’s cock. “I’m not … I’m not going to last long,” he warned.

“Neither am I,” Eliot admitted. 

“Good to know,” Quentin replied with a smile. “Come on, El, need it. Need you.”

There was a bit of fumbling, some soft curses from Eliot as they tried to find their rhythm again, but soon enough Eliot was inside Quentin, thrusting gently as he stroked Quentin’s cock.

“Fuck,” Eliot gasped. “Fuck, Q.”

Quentin arched into the touch, hands gripping Eliot’s hips as Eliot thrust.

It really didn’t take long before they were both coming. Eliot groaned softly and flopped down on Quentin’s chest, pressing a sleepy kiss to one of Quentin’s nipples, tugging it playfully with his teeth.

“Refractory period,” Quentin whispered. “Stop it.”

“But you taste so good,” Eliot murmured, humming when he felt one of Quentin’s hands in his hair.

“Yes, but now I am blissfully sex-stupid,” Quentin murmured, wiggling a bit as he felt Eliot slide out of him. “So, refractory period. We have plenty of time, El.”

“Making up for lost time, Q,” Eliot replied.

“We’ll find it again,” Quentin said. “I promise.”

They laid in silence for a few minutes, Eliot listening to Quentin’s heartbeat, Quentin gently stroking Eliot’s hair. 

“Promise me you’ll at least think about the pin curls?”

“Goodnight, Eliot.”

Eliot grinned at the soft tug to his hair. “Goodnight, Quentin.”

**Author's Note:**

> The style Margo puts Q's hair in looks like [this](http://pophaircuts.com/images/2015/04/The-Knot-Hawk.-Or-a-knotted-french-braid.-Hight-five-for-a-messy-updo-for-medium-length-hair.jpg)


End file.
